


thirium heart

by hanjt



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst with a Happy Ending, Bullying, Father-Son Relationship, Fluff and Angst, Minor Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-21
Updated: 2018-08-21
Packaged: 2019-06-30 15:33:24
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,985
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15754587
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hanjt/pseuds/hanjt
Summary: (Connor is a prototype of a Child Android. Hank is his guardian.)One day Connor returns much later from school then expected, and Hank projects his worry. The many emotions confuse and overtake Connor; the ones he feels and the ones Hank shows him. Through them, and through Hank, Connor grows more and more comfortable and understanding.





	thirium heart

**Author's Note:**

> hi! this is my first DBH piece and im kinda nervous to post this lol. it hasn't been properly edited, so i apologize for any mistakes - especially if the characters are ooc or anything. connor's personality is more or less the same, just a little bit more tame due to him being set as a (mentally) 14 y/old android in this. he has only been awake/alive for a few months, though.
> 
> anyway, thank you for dropping by and reading!

Connor was running. His legs were carrying him faster than ever before. His tattered shirt clung to his over-heated frame, and his loose tie flew behind him like a cape. His thirium pump was madly beating, almost protesting against his chest.

The yelling continued. Connor pushed himself to go faster.

He turned down a quiet street, feet landing heavily onto the ground as his breathing grew irregular. He managed to steal a cursory glance over his shoulder as he continued running, and saw as two boys came thundering around the bend. They were still hot on his trail.

The thin boy whipped his head back around to look ahead of himself, realising too late that there was another boy missing from the small group that were pursuing him.

The third boy suddenly made his appearance clear, coming from over the fence of a neighbouring house, and Connor’s eyes widened as he noticed just how close he was. The boy, also clad in their school’s uniform, grabbed Connor’s tie as he ran after him.

Connor let out a strangled gasp as he was violently pulled back, his back hitting the concrete path hard. The world was black for a whole 2.3 seconds; and then it was back, and he was faced with the ugly mug of Gavin Reed.

Gavin’s head was blocking the sun as he lingered over Connor, and soon the other two boys were towering over his body.

“Please,” Connor’s shaky voice whispered, “Please don’t hurt me.”

Gavin’s expression twisted into one that was horrid and maddening.

“Awe, the little ‘droid is even begging. Who knew that it’d be programmed with that?” Gavin spat, turning his insane grin upon his friends. They both nodded along with him and smiled – smiles that equalled the crazy look Gavin’s achieved.

Through all the error messages, Connor thought of how morally incorrect these 14 year olds were. What happened to these boys to make them act like this? All Connor had done was – well – _exist_.

He was the newest addition to Detroit’s Catholic School for Boys, and he hadn’t been accepted as easily as most.

Recently, androids had been legally seen as equals. Therefore, they could now live freely, and do as much as what humans could do. Connor was an advanced Child Unit, a prototype, and had only been awake for a few months, yet the freedom his people had earned truly benefited his living experiences.

But sometimes it was bad. Connor thought of this as the boys above him continued with their harsh and biased words. There was a sudden pain in his side, the plates beneath his synthetic skin shifting as the foot that belonged to Gavin connected with them.

One of the boys spat on his face, and then they took their leave. Connor heard nothing more of what they said, far too disoriented to do so.

Connor lay on the ground for a long few minutes, curled in on himself and his injuries, tears squeezing from his closed eyes. He didn’t want to run a diagnostic, didn’t feel like it – he also didn’t want to see the damage that had been caused.

Hank wouldn’t be happy about that.

Connor sat up, eyes still closed, and he wiped the tears and spit from his face with his shirt’s sleeve. His midsection hurt from Gavin’s kick, and he felt emotionally damaged. From his short time being awake, Connor had learnt that emotions were complicated. He’d only had them for a short amount of time. He had been influenced by the android revolution he’d heard through the media – that maybe he was allowed to be more than just a machine. And even if child androids were programmed with a lot more human expressions and mannerisms than adult ones, it didn’t mean they held true emotions. Yet Connor had learnt to, with the help of his confusing yet slow-loving adoptive parent.

Connor’s optical units adjusted to the setting sky as they opened, and he let out a discontented sigh. He had never been beat up this bad by Gavin and his companions, and he truly didn’t want Hank to see him like this. But if he wasn’t home before dinner, he’d worry Hank.

The boy weakly pushed himself up, his normal straight posture bent due to the recurring pain he felt near his regulator. He silently cursed out CyberLife for including pain senses into his programming, seeing as how it fit into the whole ‘childhood’ vision they had for their younger-looking androids. And apparently being hurt in childhood happens to many humans.

Connor finally began moving, setting out for Hank’s home – his home. He was lucky it wasn’t too far from the area he was in now, only a few blocks away. Connor forced his feelings to the back of his mind, and focused on simulating an excuse for Hank as he limped back home.

 

* * *

 

 

Connor turned up at Hank’s at 5:47 PM, according to his clock program. Dinner was usually prepared at around 6 PM; so he was on time. He steeled himself as he stood in front of the door, focussing on the excuses he’d thought up on the short walk. They floated in the corner of his HUD. He combed his dirtied fingers through his hair, attempting to neaten his appearance, if only a little, before opening the door and sliding into the house.

It was much warmer inside, and Connor felt his temperature stabilize. Unfortunately, the warmth did nothing to assist his anxiety.

He carefully slid his shoes off and neatly placed them by the door. He pulled his shoulder bag from his body, slinging the strap on a standing rack that lived next to the line of his and Hank’s shoes. He self-consciously tucked in his school shirt, and straightened his brown tie.

“Connor? Is that you?” Hank called from the kitchen.

Connor cleared his voice box, and replied: “Yes… Sorry I’m late.”

He uncomfortably padded towards the kitchen, eyes low. “I decided to go to the public library for some books on my next school project.”

Hank nodded, facing towards the stove. He was pressing down burgers, and they sizzled under the plastic spatula.

Connor stood there stiffly. He and Hank’s relationship hadn’t had the best of starts, even if it had ultimately been Hank’s choice in adopting him.

Connor was positive that Hank had adopted him for his own good – he’d heard this through the child and android specialists he’d stayed with before moving in. Sometimes, Connor felt invisible in Hank’s company – yet it didn’t bother him _too_ much. He minded his own business, and so did Connor.

Hank was a good guardian. His cooking was fine, and he always tucked Connor in. He occasionally cracked a few jokes when they were comfortable. He also showed a tender interior in contrast to his gruff outside. Connor had only really witnessed this soft side of Hank’s on a few separate occasions, though. He held onto them – because with no friends at school, or really any ‘family’ to connect with, he only had Hank.

Yes, it was hard sometimes. But he was fine with the life he was given.

Hank turned around, frown on his face as he took in Connor’s appearance. “Why’re you still standing there, kid?”

Connor blinked quickly, and he looked up to Hank. He had missed what he’d said while being stuck in his reverie. “S-Sorry?”

Hank’s eyes squinted, and he pulled the pan that held the hamburgers away from the flame. He switched off the stove top, the flame dying down. In the quietness, Connor’s stress level increased.

Hank shuffled towards Connor, and hesitantly placed a hand on his shoulder.

“Are you okay? You’re acting outta the sorts a bit, Connor.” Hank said, his voice betraying nothing.

“Out of the sorts? But… I’ve only just walked in.” Connor replied, crossing his arms across his uniform, subtly trying to hide the filth on it.

“C’mon, kid, don’t avoid my question. I can see you look hurt – I’m not blind. Do you need any patching up?”

Connor shook his head slowly. “No. I-I don’t. It’ll heal itself…”

Hank huffed, and then guided Connor out of the kitchen and into the living room. He sat on the couch, and Connor followed suit.

“Has anyone been bothering you? Any boys from school? …You can tell me, I’m not gonna bite.” Hank tried a weak smile, and Connor felt small comfort within the expression.

The boy looked down to his twitching hands, and he rubbed them together nervously. “Well… yes…” he began quietly, “Th-they… called me inappropriate names. And I know I shouldn’t let that bother me, but – but it did. I snapped back, and suddenly… suddenly they were chasing me. They caught up and…”

Connor stopped. His vision went blurry.

“Why must they be so cruel?” His voice shook. It sounded unstable, quiet, tired.

Hank’s arms gently nudged Connor, and pulled him in. Connor cried into Hank as his arms circled around him, making him feel safe. Hank was comfortable to lean into; soft and cosy… familiar, almost.

“Whatever those boys said doesn’t reflect who you are. Know that they were in the wrong, and are little pieces of shit for hurtin’ you.” Hank said, and Connor couldn’t believe how solacing his voice was. “Err – pardon my French, by the way.”

Tears continued to stain Hank’s hoodie, and Connor’s hands had balled themselves into the cloth. A sob escaped him as Hank continued on – he sounded so genuine… so caring…

“You’re an amazing kid, son. I know sometimes I… I ain’t the best, but I really believe that you’re a great kid. I know I could be better, and – I’ll do whatever I can to fix that.” Hank awkwardly ended his sentence, yet waves of… an emotion Connor couldn’t place… rolled over him, and he looked up to Hank. It was a warm emotion – warmer than when he’d stepped inside the house, warmer than being in Hank’s arms.

He could cry more over what Hank had just said, could cry and cry because _god_ , that had meant _so much_ – just those few words, the hug, everything.

Connor truly was glad Hank was his father – and he could already feel the weeks of radio silence and uncomfortable happenings being patched up by their interactions tonight. Maybe it would take some more time, but this felt like a huge step.

Connor let out one last quiet sob, and then did his best to contort his lips into a lopsided and shaky smile.

“Thank you, Hank.”

“Con, don’t you worry your lil’ head about it. Now. I’m gonna get back up, make us some damn good burgers, and then after, we can watch a movie. Maybe after, you can give me the names of those kids. I’ll have a lovely little chat with the school about them. How’s that sound?” Hank smiled, his face looking healthy. Connor couldn’t help but smile back.

“That sounds excellent. A-and do you mean we can eat on the couch while we watch the movie?”

“Hm. Sure. Why the hell not? I’ll let it slip for tonight.” Hank winked, and then straightened, carefully unravelling himself from Connor’s embrace.

Connor’s smile stretched further – he couldn’t place a time when he hadn’t been this happy. It was strange and confusing that he felt joy after revealing such raw emotions, but Connor concluded he may feel so positive now because of Hank. All the other events of the day were forgotten because of him.

“Yes! I – I look forward to it.”

He folded his legs together as Hank offered one last grin. The man turned back into the kitchen, and the boy called over Sumo, who’d been sleeping throughout their whole conversation. Sumo happily obliged, and rested half his body on top of Connor.

Sumo’s thick coat was soft and warm, but not as soft and warm as Hank Anderson.


End file.
